Productive Activity
by Charlie Winchester
Summary: Pathetic, definitely. It really scared him how well she could read him sometimes. GarretJordan.


**Productive Activity**

_Post 6.1 - That was SO worth waiting an extra four-five months for. Holy crap. _

_Review, review, review… I could SO make a song…. lala…_

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God, he loved her so much it hurt sometimes.

Always.

Constantly.

Interminably, inexplicably, and resolutely. The love and the hurt. It didn't friggin' matter.

Garret stared into his empty coffee cup and sighed. Life officially sucked. No. Life sucked even _more_ than usual, cause life often sucked, or so he thought. At least it was coffee and not scotch.

He was such a selfish bastard.

"You are _not_," he could hear Jordan's snappy reply in his head, and he pictured her rolling her chocolate brown eyes in disgust.

Yeah, well, she didn't know. She didn't know that short of wishing she'd get in trouble again just so he could hold her in his arms, he was slowly, torturously, and in all other ways losing all the self control and dignity he damn well had left, and every time she got near, she took a piece of it as she left.

It was his addiction. Human contact with Jordan Cavanaugh was as necessary to him as oxygen.

While debating whether that was pathetic or romantic, he refilled his mug and absently stirred the coffee with a stir stick, losing himself in the swirls of dark nothing.

Pathetic, definitely.

"I don't like that look."

His eyebrows shot up even before he lifted his head. "Is that so."

"Uh-huh. Gimme a minute," Jordan directed him, and frowned pensively as she stared at him, unflinching. Five seconds later she had reached her conclusive verdict. "So. What's pathetic?"

It really scared him how well she could read him sometimes.

He twisted the stir stick in his fingers until it was nothing more than a skeleton of what it had been. Jordan flopped patiently in a chair across from him, plucking it from his hands and looking as if she had all the time in the world. He, on the other hand…

_Oh, _mygod

He sighed again, opened his mouth.

"No, I don't have anything better to do. Try again," she said in a maddeningly cheerful tone.

One corner of his mouth twitched. "Beep."

She grinned. "Beep," and began humming the Jeopardy theme song pending his response of chucking a paper clip at her to shut up. "Well?"

"Me. I'm pathetic. Go autopsy someone."

"I'll autopsy _you _soon if you don't tell me what's so very obviously buggin' the hell outta you," she tossed back at him. "Spill it, lover boy, 'fore I make you. And that won't be fun, I can guarantee it."

He shuddered.

"Funny, Einstein. C'mon, give it to me."

_I love you._

"I… can't."

_Shit_.

"You can't, my ass. I know how to murder you and get away with it."

He met her eyes, amused. "I'm sure you do."

She needed leverage. Her annoyed gaze turned wicked, then, and she casually leaned forward, as if to tell him a secret. "I'll tell everyone about the Halloween party."

"You wouldn't."

Her eyes danced. "Oh, I _so _would, and you know it, Garret."

"I'm not going to tell you just because you threaten to tell the entire building… what I did," he finished lamely, but held his ground. He could read her too well, and what he read in her eyes was that all she wanted to do was know what he was thinking.

"Fine. You suck."

"Ouch. That hurt. But I forgive you." He had the upper hand now, and she knew that full well. He could see she was already trying to figure out how to get it back, and it wasn't going to be easy."

"I quit."

"Bye." He held her gaze, completely unfazed. "I'll miss you."

"Damn it."

He grinned. "Why don't you go do something productive."

"This is productive."

"No, it's not. And if you don't, I won't pay you for today."

"Yeah right."

"Try me."

She continued staring at him. "It's that important, isn't it," while dropping her voice.

Garret let out the rush of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Yeah, it is."

Jordan gave him a slow, sad smile. "Okay." She reached over, grabbed a pen and a piece of notebook paper. Tugged it down to her lap so he couldn't see what she was writing. Her pen made two quick strokes and she offered it back, crumpling up the paper with her other hand and enclosing it in her palm. She stood up, her face unreadable, and headed for the door, stopping under the doorway.

"You win."

With a resigned shrug, she tossed the crumpled up paper, not even lingering to see if it landed in the desired spot.

He stared at the empty space where she had been for a full minute before his eyes dropped to the paper. Carefully, delicately, he pulled at the edges until it lay flat on his desk, and the simply drawn heart in the middle of the page caused a pull in his stomach.

_You win._


End file.
